


The Vengeful Ancient

by antiviancrows



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Control Ending, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 07:33:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3720433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antiviancrows/pseuds/antiviancrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was the last of his kind, and she knew his language and his people and he loved her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Vengeful Ancient

She was careful and curious when she opened the stasis pod on Eden Prime, and she wasn't the least bit surprised when he jumped up and hit them with a biotic attack. She waited until he had time to realize that he was in the next Cycle before asking him to come aboard his ship.

Their technology was rudimentary compared to his. They were still growing, still evolving, and the Reapers were back to kill them. His heart ached with the loss of his entire race, and he wanted revenge. He was not surprised when the crew of her ship insisted on detaining him. He was surprised when she charged down into the cargo bay, fire and anger, and insisted that they leave him alone. He stood slowly, moved towards her suddenly, and she did not flinch as he grabbed her arms. He read her, read the fear and anger and stress inside her, and he knew they were losing, but he'd seen her determination, and he decided that he'd protect her.

She swore to destroy them, and to let him be there when she did. After he got used to the shock of waking up fifty-thousand years into the future, she came and talked to him often. She ignored his insults, and when she couldn't ignore them anymore, she replied in Prothean. His heart had nearly beaten out of his chest when he discovered that a human knew his language, a dead language.

From then on, all their private conversations were held in Prothean. He developed a grudging respect for her, and she maintained her sense of awe around him. He watched as she fought and won, and lost. She saw her face on Tuchanka after the salarian died, saw how it only made her angrier at the Reapers. He didn't understand how she so fiercely defended synthetics, and he learned to get over his distrust of Legion and EDI because of several heated arguments in the cargo bay with her.

He saw the pain she felt when Legion died, the euphoria of rallying the quarian fleet, and later he came up to her cabin to comfort her. His actions were awkward and unsure, and she was touched.

Later, during shore leave, he came to her aid after she'd been attacked. He saw her face her clone, and he marveled at her as she tried to save it, despite the battle they'd just fought against it. Then he saw her let loose during the party, saw her laugh and drink and sit just a little too close to him as she convinced him to try the drinks she provided. He paid no attention to the others at the party, they were background noise.  
He was surprised when he woke up with her the next morning, and he was even more surprised at the effect the drinks had on them both.  
He was with her and saw it all, saw the fire inside that matched the fire of her hair, the anger that burned hotly in her. When she insisted he stay in her cabin, he didn't protest. He was, however, amused.

He was not amused on Earth. They had pushed towards the Conduit, and they were so close, and then he and the asari were wounded. She forced him to go back onto the ship, told him she needed something to come back to, her eyes pleading with him, and he let her go.

She never came back. Later, he would go to the Citadel and sift through the rubble until her found her ashes. He sat beside them for a long time, preparing himself. When he touched them, he'd know. He'd feel her last moments as if he were her.

He touched them. He felt pain, white-hot, licking her skin. He felt her overwhelming despair when the Admiral had come over the comm to tell her that the Crucible had not fired. He felt her give in, and he felt the platform start to rise. He saw the conversation with the Catalyst, saw how the options flickered through her mind. She had lingered on destroy. She had promised him that one.

She did not go for that one. She went to the blue console, and he felt the agony she'd experienced as the Crucible consumed her. He felt everything she'd felt until she felt no more and he stumbled backwards, pain eating at his chest.

He was the last Prothean. No one else knew his language. No one else knew his people like she had.

He was alone.

And he had nothing left to avenge.


End file.
